Resting Place
by Carys Langley
Summary: /AU, Oshitari x Atobe/ Somehow, all Oshitari manages to see is imperfection.


**Resting Place **

AU, Oshitari x Atobe Somehow, all Oshitari manages to see is imperfection.

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own. Really, but my evil twin does.

**A/N: **I decided to venture out of my comfort zone a little bit and attempt an oneshot. This hit me when I was going to sleep last night, so I just wrote it out today as a thirty minute writing exercise. A tribute to OshiAto because there's not enough fics out there for them xD. Please enjoy.

**Poll: **And if I can take up thirty seconds more of your time, go and vote in my new poll! It's quick and painless, I promise.

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In the mornings, Atobe Keigo wakes up and puts on his many faces. A vast collection for every occasion imaginable, both expected and unexpected. The many faces insure success for each and every day, and he is always dazzling like the sun that shone in the sky. Except that, when it comes to Atobe, there are no rainy days, or even days where the sun does not shine.

Atobe is always dazzling, and he is the eternal perfection of the golden sun.

He dresses every morning in expensive imported clothing, sprays French cologne (sometimes too much of it) and practices his darling smirk in the mirror for the cameras he knows are lurking right outside. He knows they are there, simply because his charisma has lured them there.

Atobe's new movie is set to release in a month, it is a big tremendous Hollywood production, and with shooting over, his days are spent with flitting from one interview to the next. He will spend hours answering questions that they never get tired of asking. For fun, he has about four different answers to each of their questions to keep them guessing.

One of the questions on the eager interviewer's lips will always be, "Who is Oshitari Yuushi to you, Atobe-sama?"

It is the one question that Atobe never answers, ever. And the fact is laughable. At least, Oshitari Yuushi thinks so. A question with no answer typically answers itself, and so of course the media has to make up something. Usually he is the lover. The trophy boyfriend. Because the truth of the matter is, Atobe Keigo goes through partners like he changes socks.

Yet Oshitari stays.

He is neither a lover nor a trophy. Oshitari has his own future, his own life. He's a senior doctor at the medical facility that has just been built a couple of years ago, thanks to a grant from his ever generous 'lover.' His existence does not orbit the sun, he merely follows because something in him tell him that he wants to.

It is not love. To love means to be selfish. To stay loyal to one person and one person only. When he's having a lucky day, sometimes, Oshitari brings a pretty girl with nice long legs back from a bar. And he does not feel jealousy burning at the back of his throat when Atobe does the same. But in the other man's case, his other half is a flimsy model looking for a good time—and a good time is usually what Atobe delivers, without fail.

To be honest, even Oshitari does not know what he is to Atobe Keigo. Perhaps it is better that way. All he knows is that where everyone else thought that Atobe was absolutely brilliant, all Oshitari manages to see in the man he follows...is imperfection.

Perhaps it is because Atobe Keigo takes off his many faces at night and manages to whine about everything that went wrong. The filet mignon for lunch...what had they been thinking? The wine for his dinner had been sour. Various grievances that usually escape Oshitari, but unlucky for Atobe, they add to his imperfection.

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One night, Atobe comes home drunk. There is an equally attractive and not sober...boy this time, hanging on his arm. Oshitari puts down his novel and wonders. Atobe has a penchant for pretty things, and tonight's catch fits the bill, but...Atobe never invites home questionable company, that's not to say he has never kept questionable company, but he definitely knows not to cross the line.

This boy, with beautiful blue eyes as clear as crystals, looks to be questionable. Not just because his body looks so soft and supple that Oshitari wonders if the boy is even legal, but because he is male. Atobe has all kinds of tendencies, but he always manages to keep the strangest ones a secret, and remain sexually ambiguous to keep the attentions of his adoring public.

Not an easy feat for someone of his stature.

Atobe kisses the boy and barely seems to acknowledge his presence, which Oshitari doesn't mind. It's nothing unusual. He turns back to his novel, and is in the middle of turning a page when Atobe's door slams shut.

He barely looks up.

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Though what is unusual is when Oshitari is watching a old romantic film from the sixties by himself as time ticked on lazily towards 1 pm, that the boy emerges, tousled and half dressed from Atobe's bedroom. He does not look happy.

This intrigues Oshitari so much that he has to turn from the screen and watch the boy slip on his shoes. The boy's movements are clumsy and sluggish.

"Are you leaving already?"

"Yeah." He sounds like he is in a hurry.

"Careful on your way back." Oshitari says, thanks to a sudden, rather brotherly inspiration.

"...Thanks." The boy quietly lets himself out.

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The following morning, the sun does not rise. It is cold and gray outside, and Atobe Keigo neglects his many faces. He does not have the strength to be brilliant forever. Today, Oshitari has a feeling that Atobe wants to curl up in bed and sulk because of last night's fiasco.

And Oshitari lets him. Conveniently, he has the day off and carries breakfast on a tray to Atobe's bedroom, displaying an amazing amount of servitude, but he only follows and serves because he wants to. Without the aid of many a jar of miracle cream, Atobe's skin is sallow and dull.

Imperfect.

Atobe looks at him warily, but he does not say anything.

"Breakfast, if you're going to be lying in bed all day, at least have something eat." Oshitari sets the tray down on the nightstand beside Atobe's bed. The sheets are not exactly clean. He finds a spot that looks acceptable and sits down very gingerly.

There is silence.

Atobe laughs, "Yuushi, you're too good to me, you know that?"

Oshitari looks at the man swathed carelessly in the sheets, "Am I?" His tone purposely nonchalant.

Atobe turns his face to the wall. "I...pretended he was you. Last night. He got...angry."

For once, Oshitari is silent because he is speechless. He is speechless and numb. Atobe reaches out a hand and touches his cheek, but nothing else.

"I was tired."

In turn, Oshitari traces one finger along the back of Atobe's hand, but nothing else. He smiles, "...I know."


End file.
